Simply Need to Know
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: HGVK: Viktor soon hopes to retire, but he may only do so if Hermione allows it.


**Author's Note: **Please keep in mind that I do not speak Bulgarian. Any and all Bulgarian words have been dug up online, but there's a suspicious lack of Bulgarian translators, particularly with the Romanized interpretations of the words. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy the fic, and if you do, certainly review!

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Halfway through the formalities of her assignment, Hermione clenched her eyes shut and sighed. She tucked her quill into the inkwell at her desk and, after deciding that since, really, she'd put in more hours this week than any other in her division, she was more than entitled to finish up for the evening.

After carefully rolling all of her paperwork up, and tying it gently closed with thin strips of black ribbon, she safely warded it in her drawers and gathered her things together. Unable to harvest the energy to move just yet, she leaned back in her pricey leather office chair and closed her eyes.

A migraine pounded an arrhythmic tune against the backs of her eyelids, and her body felt famished and exhausted. She hadn't taken very good care of herself this week, she observed, attempting to wait out the drumming in her head. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, and she'd already found herself in that position several times this week. She'd overextended her body energy on a couple of missions, too, and the paperwork that followed had merely served to further occupy and exhaust her.

Hermione entertained herself by concocting a game plan for the evening. The following morning was Saturday, so she would (thankfully) be able to sleep in and soak up some much needed rest. Because she knew that the luxury of sleep awaited her, she could go home, feed Crooks, whip up something easy for herself, and maybe watch the telly for a while before she showered and turned in for the night. Pathetic as she knew it was for a Friday evening, it was necessary for her brief recovery.

A knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. Frowning, she wondered who could possibly still be in the office this late, and she hoped vehemently that they did not attempt to woo her into more paperwork.

She tilted her head forward and allowed her eyes to open, ignoring the negative declarations that her head attempted to scream at her because of it.

"You vork too much, and too late," a thickly accented voice informed her.

A slow, sweet smile eased onto her face as she stood, rushing forward to hug the very muscled man who leaned casually and very enticingly against the jamb of the doorway. "Viktor," whooshed from her mouth in a sigh. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you."

"And you, zverche," he murmured into her soft hair, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her warmly against him.

Hermione breathed the spicy, purely masculine scent of him, and sighed once more against his chest. "What are you doing here? You told me it'd be months before you would tour near London again."

"Are you not pleased to see me, Hermione?" He teased gently, pronouncing her name easily and at a normal pace, but only after ages of practice.

"Of course I'm pleased to see you!" She assured him, stepping back just a fraction. Her hands trailed down from his shoulders and over his arms until she could take his hands in hers, and she charmingly pressed her lips to them. "I've missed you," she said quietly, a quiet intensity in her eyes as she studied his earnestly.

Viktor had many things to discuss with his very old friend, but her office (_at ten in the evening_, Viktor scoffed mentally, concerned that Hermione was not looking after herself properly) was certainly not the place to do it.

"Ve are leaving," Viktor announced, after a period of silence during which he returned her concentrated gaze with a matching one of his own.

Hermione smiled at him again, and released his hands to place hers on her hips saucily. "And what if I was not yet prepared to leave, Mr. Krum?" She challenged him.

He released a booming laugh and shrugged inconsequently. "Ve are leaving anyvays, zverche. Ve have many things to speak of, and I have only small time," he said, frowning at his grammatical mistake. Hermione knew him well enough to know that he knew better; she also knew him well enough to know that grammatical errors tended to descend upon Viktor's speech only when he grew nervous.

Hermione tactfully determined that Viktor was nervous, yes, but he clearly did not want to discuss the issue in her office. Conceding easily, she returned to her desk and gathered her things. Viktor helped her into her cloak, and offered her his arm. "May ve Apparate to your home, Hermione?"

"Of course we can, Viktor," she said, noting his uncertainty and attempting to gently assuage it.

He nodded decisively, giving her another of his severely searching glances, and then he Apparated them to her flat. Hermione tried to shake the anxiety that his look had inspired within her as she walked through the door and removed her cloak so that she could put it up properly. Almost immediately, Viktor asked, "Have you eaten?"

"No," Hermione said shamefully, hoping to avoid being scolded as she scratched behind Crookshanks' ear and filled his bowls with food and water. "I lost track of the clock, I suppose. I meant to cook something up when I arrived home."

"Vill take-avay suffice?" Viktor offered, gesturing toward her telephone. Hermione had taught him to use the thing years ago. "I can order for you, and you may go bathe. I know you hate to sleep vith your vork's filth over you."

"My work's filth?" Hermione repeated, amused. "Very eloquently stated, Viktor."

Viktor chuckled, and performed another of his careless shrugs. He frowned a moment later when he very perceptively noticed that she was hesitating to begin her shower. "Is something the matter?"

"You'll be here when I'm finished, right? You said you didn't have a lot of time, I know, but I so dearly want to talk with you."

He smiled at her, touched, and replied, "I vill be here. Do not vorry, my zverche. I've tonight and all of tomorrow to devote to you, at least."

Satisfied, although slightly disappointed that her friend could not stay with her longer, Hermione rushed through her shower and quickly dressed in a pair of old boxer shorts and a tank top. She would not usually feel comfortable wearing such things in front of guests, not even Harry and Ron, as they would be far too stunned at being reminded that she is, of course, a woman, and possessed the parts of one, but Viktor had never had that problem with her.

He was a very close friend, and Hermione kept very little from him. She was incredibly pleased to see him, but she was slightly concerned about the matter that had prompted the visit. He _had_ told her that it would be several months before he would have another game near enough to London that he could escape the team and visit with her. It worried her that he had wedged in another visit, because that meant that he had important things to say.

She began combing her hair, and as she did so, she began working herself into a panic over Viktor's unexpected visit. A soft knock on her door informed her that he was waiting for her, and she granted him entrance comfortably.

He slipped in the door, eyes dark and intense as he smiled at her. "The food should arrive shortly, uvazhaemi sŭrtseto."

Hermione recognized the Bulgarian words as something roughly translated to 'dear heart' and nodded. The other name he called her, 'zverche,' Viktor had always laughingly refused to translate for her.

She looked at him briefly as he settled into a conjured chair behind her, and held his hand out for her comb. She allowed him to have it, and he expertly began at the bottom of the curly strands and moved upward, slowly untangling the wild mane and occasionally running his fingers over or through her hair. Hermione nearly groaned at how wonderful it felt. Viktor made it a point to somehow play with her hair every time they met up, and although Hermione did not understand his fascination with it, she was more than willing to allow him to do with it what he will, as it always felt so fantastic when he did it.

Remembering that she was meant to be questioning him, Hermione pleaded, "Tell me about what's bothering you, love."

"Not yet," he shook his head. "After you have been fed, ve vill talk then."

"I'm worried about you, Vik," Hermione disclosed quietly, eyes catching with his in the mirror.

"Do not be, zverche," he smiled at her, suddenly. His grin had always been a quick and heartbreaking thing, but Hermione could not bring herself to be fooled by it just now. It was loaded with all of his usual sincerity, and openly displayed his often-carefree disposition, but something at the corners of his mouth relayed his uncertainty. "All is more than vell. I just have things that I needed to see you about."

She opened her mouth to retort that if he came to see her about "things," then he ought to talk about them now instead of concerning her with all of the secrecy. He seemed incredibly nervous, and she knew that was an unfamiliar characteristic of the famed Quidditch star. He was naturally quiet, yes, but he had always radiated with high levels confidence and security. However, before she could confront him about it, the door rang, and Viktor eagerly accepted the interruption and moved to pay for the food.

Before he left her room, he laughed deeply at the line that had settled between her brows. "Do not vorry so. I promise to you that nothing dangerous vill befall anyone by delaying the moment vhen I share vith you my secrets." He winked at her, and Hermione felt slightly relieved, as he did not seem to think the situation was at all grave, but, Hermione reminded herself, he was definitely worried about something to do with it.

Sighing, she headed toward the family room, where Viktor was setting up various Chinese take-away boxes on the coffee table. Rolling her eyes, she moved to the kitchen to retrieve two plates, napkins, two glasses of milk, and a single fork (because while Viktor was quite talented with chopsticks, Hermione was helpless when using them), and arranged them on the coffee table as well.

She'd asked Viktor once why he was so insistent upon using the coffee table for meals instead of the kitchen or dining room tables, and he'd given her a shrug and announced that she had always seemed the most comfortable at the couch. He then informed her that when he was with her, he enjoyed seeing her relax, and he enjoyed taking her places she enjoyed, because he knew that when he was touring, she did not often live the luxurious life he felt she deserved, or cater to her own pleasures at all. He proceeded to tell her that if she would not take care of herself, then he would do it for her, and if that meant a couple nights eating supper in a would-be-improper location, then so be it.

They'd compromised; she would allow him to declare where they would eat (partly because he was so determined about it, and partly because at the time she'd thought his defense was so sweet that her eyes had started to water, and she'd cuddled close to him on the sofa for a solid five minutes before she had been able to eat her pizza) as long as he consented to dishware.

Once the spread was complete, Viktor easily shifted the table so that it was pressed closer to the couch, and they wouldn't have to reach far for their food. Settling in with some noodles, rice, and chicken, Hermione asked Viktor to tell her about how the season was shaping up.

She didn't really like Quidditch, much, and Viktor knew it, but she enjoyed watching his eyes light up when he spoke of it, and enjoyed going to matches because she felt proud of how he played, and what he worked for.

Swallowing a bite of orange chicken, Viktor replied, "It is going very vell, though this may be my last season of playing."

Confused, Hermione sat up straight, and immediately questioned, "What? Why?"

He shrugged. "It is one of the things I have needed to talk vith you about. It is unusual for players to remain on teams as long as I have."

"You've obviously remained on the team because you're quite talented at what you do, Viktor," Hermione dismissed. "Have you been asked to leave?"

"Not exactly. I have been offered a position elsevhere."

Hermione frowned, finished with her noodles, and replaced her plate at the table. She took a sip of her milk as she pondered what to ask, curiously feeling as though there was something about this offer that he hesitated to tell her. "Does this position appeal to you?"

"Very much so," Viktor concluded reluctantly. After a moment, he added, "And for many reasons. But also for many reasons, it does not."

"Oh?" Hermione pressed gently, lifting her plate again and starting on some fried rice to keep her mouth full and to prevent her from pelting him with questions. Viktor liked to develop his important conversations, and ensure that everything he said came out the way he intended. It would not do to rush him; that would merely make him uncomfortable.

"It puts me further from my Bulgarian home, and also my family. I vould be leaving my Quidditch team for good. There is an obligatory year-long contract, so even if I do not enjoy my vork, I must continue it for that time. And I'm not certain that my colleagues vill be entirely velcoming of me," he listed, and thoughtfully chewed another piece of chicken.

Hermione laughed quietly. Viktor looked up at her inquisitively. "You did mention somewhere before that extensive list of cons that this position interests you, Vik," she reminded him. "What are the pros?"

"I vould be retiring from Quidditch vithin the next few seasons, regardless of the position; I am thirty this year, and that is older than most vill ever get in their Quidditch careers. The new vork vould deal vith magic that has alvays been very important to me. I vould have a very specific, and large number of days allotted for vacation time, and vould then be able to visit vith my family. The vorkplace has alvays been very inspiring to me," he paused very briefly, and studied the carton of noodles he now held, ignoring the plates that Hermione had retrieved for them. "And it vould substantially put me vith you closer."

Viktor's words had stumbled again, and he cursed himself for his mistake. Hermione was not oblivious, but she rested her hand against his arm and squeezed comfortingly. "Viktor, you don't need to be nervous," she murmured. "I'm pleased that I factor in as a pro, but don't let me influence your decision too much, alright?"

He frowned at her, and shook his head. "Zverche, you vill alvays influence my decisions," he informed her. "In fact, I could not make half of my decisions vithout you."

Smiling sweetly at him, she murmured, "Even still. This is a big change for you, and you need to consider everything and weigh it properly, and decide on the best course of action for you."

Viktor nodded his agreement, and continued to eat. For several moments, that's all there was. They both ate. Viktor contemplated all of his options, and Hermione watched him do it, hesitating and furiously trying to phrase her next words so that they conveyed how much she truly meant them.

"Viktor?" She said earnestly, waiting until he looked up at her to finish. "Whatever you decide, make sure you go somewhere you will be happy. That's all I want for you; you deserve that and more out of life."

Besotted, and entirely past attempting to deny it, Viktor took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss upon her palm. "You are incredibly kind, zverche, and you see much good in me that I fear, perhaps, is not there. Nevertheless, thank you. You have alvays extended such generosity to me."

She placed her food back on the coffee table, and curled up next to him, situating herself beneath his arm. He chuckled and obliged her, wrapping his arm around her once she was settled and continuing to eat his Chinese while she rested her eyes and enjoyed the spicy scent and strong feel of the man.

"You'll stay the night, won't you?" Hermione asked, big brown eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

Viktor was helpless, and he knew it, but he nodded all the same. A moment later, satisfied, Hermione sleepily murmured, "I'm glad you came to visit me, Vik."

"I am glad, also," he murmured. "Tomorrow I vill talk to you about more details, yes? Rest, now, zverche. You have vorked very hard for it."

Hermione woke the next morning in her bed, and recalled enough of the previous evening to determine that Viktor must have carried her into the bedroom.

As she crawled from the mattress and dressed, performing a couple of quick spells over her hair to have it behaving well enough for a decent replication of a braid at the back, she contemplated all that he'd told her. Hermione knew how much Quidditch meant to him, but she also knew that he'd always been well aware of the short period he had left to play it professionally. He was right; he'd played for longer than most other players could ever dream to play.

But Hermione was wary of this new position for many reasons, the first of which being that he was reluctant to tell her about it. Another thing that concerned her was his family. The Krums were a very tightly bound family, a fact that Hermione had discovered first through Viktor's affectionate tones when speaking of them, and then when she had visited him in Bulgaria the summer following her sixth year.

They had always been very welcoming of her, and very kind, as well. They heartily approved of she and Viktor's friendship, pleased that she seemed to inspire a bit of loudness in his typically solemn demeanor. Hermione kept contact with his mother and was sure to mail her weekly, at least, and she often had lunch with his sister, Krasimira, when she was in Bulgaria for work, which was surprisingly often. Hermione knew, probably better than anyone, that being further from his family would be hard for him, but the lengthy holidays he had described to her would certainly help out in that regard.

Quickly realizing that she was attempting to rationalize the proper option for him, Hermione brushed away thoughts about the decision Viktor had to make. She padded lightly down the hall and noticed that the door to the guest room was still closed. It was just as well, she decided. She would cook him breakfast, and feed him before they began their day.

She prepared coffee, eggs, toast, sausages, a few slices of bacon (because he would want some, and she currently did not), and added various fruits to the table, as well. As she reached for the coffee mugs, she heard him behind her and smiled, turning around to greet him good morning.

Except, her words lodged in her throat as she turned around, and later she would wonder at the fact that she hadn't dropped the mugs she held, too.

A shirtless, sleepy-eyed Viktor Krum was a sight to behold. He wasn't really paying attention to her, and glanced around as he tried to regain his bearings, so Hermione took the time to look him over. She had always known that he was a very strong fellow, but his muscles bunched and released and rippled deliciously as he stretched his arms heavenward, and Hermione had no shame when admiring him. He wore sleep pants, which rode low on his hips, and she wondered briefly what the rest of him looked like, but she recognized that thoughts such as those probably toed a line that she ought to carefully mind.

When he finally took notice of her, he smiled lazily and said, with a rough, sleepy voice, "Good morning, zverche. You have cooked a feast for us."

Hermione forced herself to return to her previous tasks. "I wouldn't call it a feast, but breakfast, yes," she laughed lightly.

He seated himself at the island counter and highly regarded the very spirited, red sundress that she wore. A slim silver chain was draped around her neck, with a small ruby-colored (likely authentic) gem that, Viktor noticed, fell precariously between two perfect breasts. She would, he decided, be the death of him. Someday soon, if he could not garner the courage to inform her of his infatuation.

Forcing himself to refocus, he instead studied the fluid grace that she wielded as she moved through the kitchen. It was sweet of her to prepare breakfast, particularly as his visit had been unplanned, but Hermione was always mindful of her friends and guests.

"May I assist you?" He asked, immediately moving to stand, scandalized as he realized that he had not yet offered.

Hermione laughed again and shook her head. "No, Vik, sit down. I'm almost finished," she said, wandlessly summoning the cream and fixing their coffees easily. A moment later she rested a plate in front of him, and moved around so that she could sit beside him for the meal.

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely.

"You're quite welcome," she smiled, and bit into a piece of egg. "Do you have any ideas for the day?"

They discussed venturing into Diagon, and Viktor expressed that he would like to take her out to lunch. With vague plans established, Hermione shooed Viktor to the shower to cleanse and prepare himself for the day, and as he did, she set the dishes to wash and enjoyed another cup of coffee.

The two spent the morning dipping in and out of stores, Viktor happily indulging her when she smiled bashfully and requested that they visit Obscurus Books, a favorite haunt of hers for the always-rare selection of novels to choose from. Later, Hermione fairly conceded to a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Viktor admired and eventually purchased a new pair of boots. However, they also enjoyed the visit to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, which kept them both occupied and entertained, and later, Hermione found herself reluctantly accepting two full bags of candy from Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. Viktor had declared that she would enjoy the taste, if not the calories, and she could keep the squirming gummy worms on her desk at work, at the very least to entertain her guests.

And she _would_ enjoy them, Viktor thought, but her look of exasperated fondness when he'd first handed her the bag had appealed to him greatly.

Finally, they settled in at a newer restaurant called Garian's Café, and at Hermione's request, they opted for outdoor seating. They rested their shrunken bags at their feet, only after Hermione had counted them all to be sure that they hadn't misplaced any. When she'd finished, she smiled charmingly at the waiter and thanked him for the menus.

A few moments later, with water glasses and orange juice before them, Hermione and Viktor placed their orders and chatted lightly with the waiter until he excused himself to the kitchens to have their meals prepared.

Hermione regarded Viktor curiously as she sipped at her juice, and he chuckled mirthfully. "You may ask me vhat you vill, Hermione."

"I wasn't going to – "

"Oh yes," Viktor laughed again, interrupting her defense, "you vere going to. But I do not mind. I enjoy to see your vonderful mind at vork."

She blushed prettily, but set her glass down, and asked, "Why don't you want to tell me where your job offer came from?"

Viktor frowned and shook his head. "I have no problem telling you of its origins. Headmaster Dumbledore has invited me to vork at Hogvarts, in order to fill the Potions position. Snape vill finally take the Defense classes, it seems."

Hermione eyebrows raised immediately. She had not expected that, to be honest, but she was immediately pleased for him. It was scary, she was sure, to accept a year-long position with no guarantee that he would enjoy the work, but she knew that he would. He was very patient with children, and authoritative when necessary. Viktor was also very much the Potions expert, and would enjoy the time to experiment with the volatile things when he was not working. His lack of free time had been one of his biggest (and only) qualms with his Quidditch career, and Hogwarts would allow him more spare time than he would know what to do with.

"That's wonderful, Viktor!" Her eyes were bright as she congratulated him, until he reminded her that he was not certain if the position was something that he wanted.

She nodded, of course, because despite the fact that she was almost certain that working at Hogwarts would make Viktor happy, it was ultimately his decision to make, and she did not want him to go if he did not wish to.

"Enough of my vork," Viktor announced. "I vish to hear about yours. Tell me, how is the Department of Mysteries treating you, zverche?"

Hermione's smile suddenly turned tired, but before she could respond, the waiter arrived with their food. Hermione thanked him profusely and all but groaned as she tasted the garlic-dipped shrimp. "Viktor, this is fabulous."

It certainly was. Viktor was utterly enraptured by the pleasure she expressed, but managed to grunt out a shaky response that, he hoped, did not let on to his arousal. "You have not told me about vork, Hermione," he frowned.

"It's all going well," she assured him. "I have a bit of a problem turning down missions when, logically, I know that my body is simply too worn to handle them, but that's something I need to work on. I just hate to disappoint the head of my department; he's got so much faith in my abilities, and while I usually have no problems completing the missions, I'm usually quite tired when the week is finished."

Concerned, Viktor reached over the small, circular table and tilted her chin upwards with his middle and index fingers. "You've not been caring for yourself vell," he said solemnly, searching her eyes desperately. "You are much too tired, and far too thin."

She felt oddly insulted by his evaluation of her, and couldn't distinctly name why, but a nagging corner of her mind was not at all pleased that he seemed to find her unappealing. Frowning, Hermione turned her head away from him to rid of the fingers beneath her chin, and instead of replying, she somewhat moodily nibbled on another bit of shrimp.

Viktor, man that he was, couldn't understand the change in her behavior, but was clever enough to identify that he had overstepped somewhere. The tricky part was figuring out where it had been.

"Hermione?" Viktor approached cautiously.

Sensing his confusion, Hermione sighed. _She_ didn't even know why the statement had upset her, so it was hardly reasonable to expect him to know. And besides, Viktor was genuinely worried for her wellbeing, which was sensible enough, considering that she had admitted to herself the evening prior that she had been slipping as far as her personal care was concerned.

Hermione smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his hand gently, feeling his fingers immediately tighten against hers so that she would not pull away from him. "I'll work on it, Vik."

The rest of lunch passed without fault, and they found themselves heading back to her flat. They packed away their purchases and not long after, they settled in to watch the telly. Hermione, having gotten over her mysteriously sensitive reaction to his concern, snuggled comfortably against him on the couch.

Hermione heard the floo activate from the fireplace to her right, and sighed against Viktor's chest, unknowingly torturing him just that little bit more. He did not want visitors just now. He had spent the entire past hour attempting to pluck up the courage to talk to Hermione about his feelings, and he had thought that he was growing closer to doing it.

She turned her head, without resituating herself at all, otherwise, and found Harry regarding her curiously. As he observed the two of them, he forgot about the friends that were meant to follow him to Hermione's, and stumbled forward until he collapsed on the floor, underneath of Ron, who fell with an "oof."

The two scrambled out of the way as Ginny and Luna stepped rather gracefully from the floo, particularly in comparison. Frowning, Hermione wondered what it was that they were all doing here.

"Hi!" Ginny chirped, quickly evaluating (and maybe misinterpreting) the scene before her. "We were going to ambush you and force you to come to the pub with us, as it's Saturday and we've collectively decided that you've worked quite enough to earn yourself some play time, but I see you've started play time already, so we'll just be going."

Hermione blinked a few times, trying to catch up with the situation. "What?"

Ron shrugged uncomfortably, shuffling his feet. "We were going to make sure you didn't spend Saturday alone, yeah? But ah… Krum's obviously taken care of that, hasn't he?"

"Don't sound so disheveled, Ronald," Luna told him dreamily, regarding the couple on the couch knowingly. "They've finally acknowledged their attraction for each other. With how long this has been building up, you're quite lucky we caught them with their clothes still on."

Hermione was blushing furiously, confused by the entirely-too-casual tone that Luna had matched her words with.

Ron sputtered for a moment, but Ginny rolled her eyes, but took his arm and Disapparated away. Hermione's wards disallowed Apparition into her flat, but easily made it acceptable to leave by such means. Luna wished her well and fled just as quickly as she'd arrived, but Harry stayed behind a moment.

He squinted, just slightly, and sighed heavily. "Take care of her, Krum," he paused briefly, and muttered quietly, "She deserves some good."

When Harry was gone, Viktor shifted nervously at her obvious befuddlement.

"What…?" Hermione breathed, absolutely lost.

Squaring his shoulders, Viktor very solemnly began as much of the speech he'd been planning as he could remember. "I vould suppose that vhat your friends say has combined vith vhat to say to you that I had vished."

He quickly gave up all hopes of proper English grammar, recognizing that this was quite potentially the most nerve wracking moment of his life.

"For many years, ve have been friends, yes?"

"Of course we have, Viktor," Hermione replied.

He nodded resolutely, but continued. "Vhen ve met first, I vished to be vith you, but simply it vas not logical. Ve vere young, and even still, you vere younger than vas I, and ve vere far apart. The friendship kept by us vas and alvays has been important to me, and it vas requirement of the time that it vas enough. Only short time passed before I vanted nothing else from you but friendship. You vere vith men, I vas vith vomen, but very close ve grew. For four years, since you have turned to tventy-two, I have again vanted to be vith you. You are very kind vitch; loving, generous, determined, smart. You enjoy time to spend vith my family. You make available for me yourself, vhen I vish to see you, or vhen your advice I require."

Viktor paused, then, taking in her very focused expression, her eyes wide. "The position at Hogvarts that I have been offered is vonderful, and vill provide for me everything that I need. However, the position I vill not take, and do no vant, if I cannot be vith you."

He watched her eyes rapidly take in every aspect of his face, furiously searching him for something. Frowning, Viktor felt that there was nothing he had not made very clear to her. He valued every part of their friendship, and enjoyed everything that she did for him, but he could not help that he wanted so much more from her. She was so alluring and innocent and sweet; how could he be blamed for wanting to –

Hermione's lips were soft against his chapped ones, gently smoothing over them as she positioned herself so that she was on her knees as she kissed him. She had one small hand on the side of his face, her thumb brushing lightly with his ear and her fingers scraping through his short hair. The other of her hands cupped his neck and provided a warmth to his flesh that shivered down his spine.

As his motor functions became available, Viktor immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, and the palm of his opposite hand cradled her rib cage as he desperately reciprocated, his tongue seeking hers and rubbing against it hotly.

Hermione moaned, and bit down on his lip, exhaling a sigh of pleasure when his mouth migrated to her neck. "Vik," she breathed. "God, that's wonderful."

The hand that held his neck squeezed as she gasped her pleasure to him, her nails nipping into his skin. Viktor felt heat develop there, and a moment later he felt that heat scramble down his spine as he smoothed his tongue over a particularly sensitive place of her throat and she attempted to claw him through his shirt.

"Eba," Viktor growled, both hands flying to the hem of her dress. He curled the fabric beneath his hands and released it several times, and, despite her cry of displeasure, he pulled back from her neck swiftly. "Eba," he hissed again, as he inhaled deep breaths. "Ve must stop this. I vill ravish you, zverche, and feel no remorse until ve have finished. If that is not vhat you vish, ve must stop this."

"Do it, Vik. Please," she begged into his ear, feeling his hesitation. "Do it," she insisted. "Do _me._"

The powerful man growled again, and all but tore the saucy red sundress she wore from her body and situated her so that she was laying down. He found her braless and, aside from the small chain around her neck and a skimpy, lacy thong, completely bare for his viewing pleasure, so he wasted no time tracing a wet trail to her left breast.

Hermione arched up to him, whimpering and releasing a whole slew of tempting sounds. Naturally, Viktor sucked harder, wanting more, wanting to give her more and take more and make her so desperate she could hardly stand it. She sobbed his name, and he left her breast, returning to her mouth. His hands caressed every piece of flesh available as he hotly devoured her mouth.

His hips grinded down to hers, and Hermione's instinctively jerked upward, a small whine falling from her lips. "Clothes, Vik. Take them off."

He did, quickly – removed her thong while he was at it – and returned to her. They both moaned at the feel of their flesh touching, heat quickly passing between them. Hands wandered quickly and aimlessly and, God, so deliciously over muscles and breasts and arses and hips, and whispered over much more desperate body parts without paying nearly enough attention to them.

"Fuck, Viktor, now. Please," Hermione sobbed against his neck. "I need you, now."

Refusing to tease either of them, Viktor made to obey. His pressed his tip against her, but before he fully entered, he paused, and growled deeply. "I vant to see your face, zverche. I vant to see your eyes flash and darken, and that dirty mouth of yours curse. Look at me, zverche. I vant to vatch you vhile I fuck you."

Hermione took his face in her hands and kissed him ferociously, tilting her hips upward to encourage him. His mouth left hers, and their eyes met. Allowing no time to adjust, Viktor swiftly entered her, and Hermione mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

He stayed exactly where he was, for one moment longer. Hermione lifted her pelvis upward, and demanded, "Fuck me, Viktor. We can play nicely later."

Viktor wanted to chuckle, as his zverche was truly something special, but could not do anything but immediately withdraw and replace himself inside of her. Over and over again.

"Fuck," Hermione moaned, still maintaining eye contact with her lover. "Fuck, Viktor, you're so good. So good," she breathed, meeting his thrusts evenly.

Viktor took her right leg and bent it upward, meaning to use it to thrust faster, and as he did, an immediate change revealed itself to him through her body language. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she arched upward, further against him, releasing a wanton cry of absolute delight. He had found a very special spot inside of his zverche, and she appeared to very much enjoy his discovery.

He thrust into her hard and fast and as deep as he could, moving ever quicker, gripping her hips so tightly he was sure to leave bruises. He felt Hermione's nails scathing down his back, slicing into him as she released a stream of swear words and screams that never seemed to end.

"Fuck, you're there," she cried. "You're right there. Harder, Vik. Fuck me harder!"

He obeyed, realizing quickly that his hand had moved to frame the side of her face, and Hermione had taken it upon herself to suck on his thumb. He felt like crying out at the erotic image she projected. "Eba," he shouted, moving harder against her, in her, again and again and again, until he heard her scream his name loudly, and only then let himself come inside of her.

Viktor slowly moved in and out of her for a moment longer, letting them both enjoy this moment to its fullest. When he heard her sigh contently, he immediately felt sheer masculine pride. He had delivered satisfaction to his Hermione, and as far as Viktor was concerned, that deserved an ego boost.

"Lay with me, Vik," she breathed, eyes closed and her chest heaving.

The sofa was a little small for two people to lay across it horizontally, particularly if one of them was as long as he was, but as soon as he thought it, he watched in awe as it grew larger. His zvercha knew wandless magic, he recalled, and she was clearly putting it to good use.

He had many questions for her about what this meant as far as their relationship was concerned, but he was willing to cast those aside for the evening. He only had a little bit of time left with this wondrous woman, and he wanted to spent tonight in her arms, and keeping her very secure in his.

So he wrapped himself around her, and felt her lean into his body in return. "What does that word mean?" She asked, her head beneath his chin as he spooned up behind her.

"Vhich?" Viktor asked.

"Eba?" She prompted.

"It is Bulgarian for the same curse vord that you seem to favor, zverche," he chuckled lightly. "In English, it is fuck."

Hermione hummed lightly and opened her eyes. He saw a naughty look cross her face, just before he heard her mutter, "Then I very much hope I performed the action adequately."

"My zverche," he laughed, "you vere more than adequate vith that particular action."

* * *

_**Bulgarian Quidditch Star To Retire  
**Written by: Karla Santos_

_To the pure astonishment of his coach and teammates, Viktor Krum, famed seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team, announced Monday his wish to retire following the end of this season._

_When asked after his spontaneous decision, the typically quiet and sometimes surly star flashed a million-watt grin at the camera (see picture to left), and announced that he will soon become the replacement Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Additionally, Krum informed eager reporters, he intends to devote every moment of spare time to his girlfriend, Hermione Granger._

_The two met thirteen fateful years ago at the TriWizard Tournament, in which Krum was a participant. Ironically enough, Krum escorted the war hero, Granger, to the Yule ball, and later, Granger became Krum's chosen "treasure," to be rescued from the dank depths of the murky Black Lake._

_Granger and Krum have been spotted at various locations (see pictures to right), expressing no obstacles regarding their relationship together as far as their friends and family are concerned. Krum's parents, Tatiana and Khristo Krum, have expressed profound pleasure with their son's new companion. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Conquered, added that he and all of Granger's friends and family are beyond pleased that the two have finally acknowledged their love for each other._

Ginny was seated in Hermione's office, smirking at her as Luna wandered dazedly around, glancing at the bookshelves and muttering about yet-discovered creatures.

Hermione's quick mind processed the words of the article, and she rolled her eyes at the occasional triteness of it, but over all, it was not terribly distasteful. The photograph of Viktor truly was a good one, and Hermione immediately pondered blowing it up a bit and giving it a frame.

"Well?" Ginny prompted.

Hermione frowned. "Well, what?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ginny threw her hands up, exasperated. "I knew he liked you, but _damn_."

"Damn_, what?_" Hermione questioned, confused.

"Please," Ginny scoffed. "Look, I know you don't enjoy Quidditch, but this is _Viktor Krum_. I know he's always had a soft spot for you, and I know you're his girl, Granger, but professional Quidditch stars never _choose_ to retire."

_Oh,_ Hermione thought. _That._

"Professor Dumbledore offered him the Potions position," Hermione explained reasonably. "Viktor's quite fond of Potions."

"Mhmm," Ginny grinned. "I don't doubt that, Hermione. But that's not why he took the position, is it?"

"He loves you dearly, you know," Luna informed, smiling dreamily.

Hermione wished she could live in Luna's world, just for a day or so (she would surely go mad after much longer), plainly so that she could understand what it was, exactly, that kept the sweet blonde girl so incredibly pleased all the time.

"Yes, Luna," Hermione smiled softly. "I do know."

Gentling significantly, Ginny asked, "He took the Hogwarts job for you, didn't he?"

"Sort of," she admitted.

Satisfied, Ginny reached over Hermione's desk, took her hand, and squeezed it lightly. "I'm happy for you, 'Mione. He pampers and spoils you, and keeps you healthy. He's good for you. And you're very good for him."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione said meaningfully. "I appreciate it."

"You miss him," Luna informed Hermione, smiling at her sadly.

Although slightly annoyed with Luna's tendency to state things as opposed to asking them, Hermione unnecessarily verified. "It's been six months since I've spent more than a few hours with him, Luna. He makes as much time as he can, of course, and tries to get away for a little bit every week to have lunch or dinner, but I can't say that I'm dreading his last match tomorrow," she said, massaging her temples gently, sighing. "I miss him very much," she added, whispering.

"I have missed you as vell, zverche."

Her head shot up, and she immediately grinned at the handsome man, rounding her desk quickly to hug him. Viktor embraced her promptly, melting into her and enjoying the feel and smell of his sweet girl.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked quickly. "Your last match is tomorrow. Shouldn't you be with your team? Practicing?"

"No, I most certainly should not. I have informed coach that I vill not perform half as vell if I may not spend the evening vith my zverche, as sleep I vill not for one hour more vithout her. He vas very reluctant to let me go, but I have told him that it vas very important that I see you today, othervise I vill vorry and vorry all through silly Quidditch game tomorrow."

"Everything is alright, Vik?" Hermione asked quietly, her teeth immediately beginning to worry at her lip. Luna and Ginny exchanged a worried glance behind her, as well.

"I do not know, zverche. That depends very much vith you."

"Me?" Hermione asked. "Viktor, what's wrong?"

She watched as the Bulgarian took both of her hands in his, and looked at her directly. "I have voman I vish to marry," he declared quietly, still loudly enough for Ginny and Luna to hear. "But," he frowned, reaching to his pocket for the tell-tale black box, kneeling and flipping the lid open while still holding onto her left hand, "I am uncertain that my ring she vill agree to vear. Perhaps it is not the correct stone?" He asked, glancing down at the platinum ring, with a ruby set proudly in the center, before returning his hopeful gaze to her watery one. "Or the wrong sort of metal?" He paused for a short moment, before he shook his head at her slowly, directly looking into her eyes and murmured, "But that vould be no matter, vould it, zverche? I may purchase for her a new ring if this trinket vill not please her. So," he inhaled deeply, "I simply need know if my voman… vishes to marry me, as vell."

Ginny squealed somewhat predictably in the background, but Hermione could barely hear it. Her tears rolled silently and sweetly down her cheeks as she searched Viktor's eyes and face intently, and earnestly, reading every sincere emotion in his vulnerable expression. Hermione nodded, wordlessly at first as a brilliant smile dawned across her face, and she whispered through thick tears, "Of course I wish to marry you, you wonderful, brilliant man."

He slipped the ring over her third finger, sweeping her up into a powerful hold and spinning her around as he laughed delightedly. They were startled by a barrage of applause, and it took Hermione but a moment to process that her entire department had witnessed his proposal. She subsequently flushed charmingly and buried her face into Viktor's neck.

The Bulgarian man continued to laugh, and held her against him tightly. "My sveet zverche," he murmured into her hair.

"Before the wedding, Vik," Hermione waited until she had his attention, both grinning at the idea of their marriage, "you will have to tell me that word means."

He grinned at her cheekily, and said, "You are my zverche. You are my cub. Sveet and soft and sometimes vicious, and I vill alvays protect you from harm, because you are my zverche."


End file.
